The Lorelais' First Day at Luke's
by Puppets Blizzt
Summary: Just as the title says; that fateful day at Luke's so many years ago, that first sparked Luke's love for the lovely Gilmore. But a chain of events sparks from this chance meeting, blossoming into a fledgling romance. Now complete.
1. The Star Crossed Lovers Meet

**Just something I felt like doing. I've wanted to do one for a while, but I've never been quite satisfied with the turn-out. Yeah, I've written one before, but I didn't like it. Not sure how I like this one either.**

**I might turn it into a two-shot, and maybe even more, but don't get your hopes up. My main focuses are Secrets and Regrets and A Little Piece of Heaven, and this is just a little something to tide readers over until the next chapter update then.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls, as much as I would love to. o3o**

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Lorelai Gilmore walked down the sidewalk of Stars Hollow, her bright eyes taking in her surroundings. At her side strode her eleven year old daughter.

"What're we looking for?" she asked.

"Coffee," Lorelai replied simply.

"Ahh, should've known," her daughter remarked. They had already passed countless stores, though none of them seemed to have the single thing the Gilmores were looking for: Coffee.

"Look, Ror, let's play a game."

"I'm not three," the daughter pointed out.

"Yes, but I am when it comes to coffee. And I need caffeine, now. First one to find a suitable place to get coffee gets to pick the movie marathon Friday night, okay?"

Her daughter's eyes sparkled with delight. "Deal!"

Lorelai sighed with exasperation. No doubt, the next marathon would be Jane Austen related; Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and the like. But hey, who was she to complain when it meant finding coffee?

The deal set, dual set of eyes ripped apart Stars Hollow for a coffee shop.

"Hey, look!" Rory pointed across the street. The words on the window read 'Weston's Bakery.'

"Bakery, Rory. We're on a coffee mission."

"But they've got cake, that means," Rory pointed out.

"Yeah, but mom's craving coffee," Lorelai replied.

"Cake," Rory repeated, as if cake trumped coffee.

Pah, as if. Her daughter still had much to learn.

"Coffee trumps cake, kid. Sorry," Lorelai said. As they walked on, Lorelai's gaze flickered to the window next to her and she stopped in her tracks.

The words read 'Luke's' in fancy print across the window. Inside, the place looked packed. That could only mean it had to be popular, and therefore that the food had to be good. One look at the sign hanging above the door made Lorelai's heart leap for joy; the sign was in the shape of a coffee cup. Score!

Nudging her daughter in the side, she pointed to the coffee shop, "I win."

Rory sighed in defeat, "Great. So what's it gonna be? Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory? The Wizard of Oz?"

"All great choices," Lorelai agreed, "But the Godfather is much more suited for a marathon, don'tcha think?"

At this, Rory couldn't help but smile. She had inherited her mother's sense of music, movies, food, and pretty much everything else, as well.

Lorelai in the lead, the door to Luke's swung open. The bell above the door chimed, but the sweet sound was drowned out by the people inside. All of the tables were filled, as well as seats at the counter. Some people were even standing, waiting for a table to open up. It seemed like the chatter would never cease, people buzzing with news. A few people who seemed to work at the diner hurried around with trays of food and coffee pots. This caught her eye quickly.

"Coffee!" she exclaimed. A few heads turned in her direction, but they said nothing to her. A few people recognized her from the Independence and flashed a small smile or a delicate wave, but none bothered to verbally greet her.

This was how it was for Lorelai and her daughter; living small, but dreaming large. Lorelai had big hopes for both she and her daughter, but she had to go through many trials to get there, she knew that. Her dreams for her daughter included Harvard, while her aspirations for herself mostly centered on her own inn. And Stars Hollow, the quaint town she currently lived in, was the perfect place to achieve said dream.

Looking around desperately, she spotted the man who seemed to be in charge. He wasn't doing much other than taking orders from the kitchen and handing them over to his helpers. He was wearing a flannel, red plaid shirt and a backwards, green baseball cap. He had a pad and a pencil in his hand.

"Be back, stay here," Lorelai said to Rory. She made her way over to the counter, but before she could reach her destination the man hurried out from behind the counter to a table. An elderly couple had just sat down in the once-vacant table and he was starting to take their orders.

"Excuse me," Lorelai started, but her words went unheard by the diner man, who was furiously jotting down orders from the couple.

"Would you like coffee, with that?" he asked gruffly to the woman.

"Yes please!" Lorelai piped up from behind him.

Annoyed, he spun around.

"I'm with someone right now. Sit down, shut up, and I'll get to you when I get to you," he sighed impatiently.

"There's nowhere to sit down," Lorelai pointed out, "unless you want me to sit on the floor and get trampled by people. Huh, some establishment you have here, where you want your customers to be run over by the staff."

The man rolled his eyes, "Just stand by the door over there and I'll get to you eventually."

Without waiting for a reply, he apologized to the couple at the table and continued taking down their order. As he finished, he went behind the counter and handed it over to the man in the kitchen. Lorelai followed suit.

He turned around, "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I need coffee," she replied.

"Customers," he seethed, "aren't allowed behind the counter."

"Fine," Lorelai sighed. Turning, she grabbed the coffee pot off the counter and hurried out from behind. As she turned, the man reached over from behind her and plucked the pot from her grasp.

"And they can't pour their own coffee. As you can see, we're extremely busy right now. Now go over there," he pointed to the door, "and wait until a table clears up."

Again, he made it a point to turn away. He placed the coffee pot back in the holder and swept by the kitchen, where he took the fresh food and delivered it to the couple. Lorelai hovered beside him.

"Hey, I know I'm being a bother-"

"Oh, really?" he asked dryly.

"-but I just have one question," she finished, ignoring his comment.

He sighed, spun around, and faced her with his arms folded across his chest.

"What?" he asked in exasperation.

"When's your birthday?" Lorelai asked enthusiastically.

"My what?" he inquired, taken by surprise at the odd question.

"Your birthday," she repeated, "You know... your date of birth. The day you came into the world. The day you celebrate once a year... the day your fabulous mother-"

"October," he interjected immediately, not wanting to hear anything about his mother, who had died young. He hadn't known much about her, and just hearing things referring to his mother made him uncomfortable beyond belief.

"October what?" she pushed on.

"Why does it even matter?" he retaliated.

Lorelai sighed, "Because it does," she shot back, as if it were obvious. "If you won't tell me that, can I at least have your astrological sign?"

By now, she had followed him all across the diner, careful to keep an eye on Rory, who was watching the whole scenario with a bemused expression plastered on her face. It easily read, 'you'll do anything for coffee.' And that she would.

"Why?" he asked, now taking an order from another table.

"Because I'm extremely strange and I like to know people's astrological signs and their birthday, so that I can make a mental note of it and get them a birthday present," she lied.

Narrowing his eyes, as if it were less-than-thrilled with the response, he sighed. He couldn't believe he was doing this, actually giving the strange woman information on himself. But it was only his astrological sign, right? Nothing else.

"I'm a Scorpio, 'ya happy?" He turned and walked off.

"Extremely," Lorelai replied to thin air. Then, she wandered off to a table where a red-haired woman sat, a blonde-haired woman seated across from her. They had the newspaper out in front of them and were giggling insanely at whatever it said.

Her daughter came up behind her and lingered at her side as she approached the two women.

"Hey, can I borrow the horoscope section of that?" Lorelai asked politely.

The two women looked up.

"Well hello there, suga'," one greeted brightly. Noticing the young girl at her side, she smiled, "and who's this little girl?"

"Uh, I'm Lorelai. And this is my daughter, Rory," she explained, "But I'm kinda in a hurry. Can I borrow the horoscope section of that paper? Well actually... I'll probably end up keeping it, see, I plan to write on it. So... could I use the horoscope section?" She rambled, complete with hand gestures and little-to-no breaths between words.

"Sure, sweetie," the other replied. She handed over the page of the paper containing the horoscopes, and Lorelai tore out the section she needed. Then, she scanned the area for a pencil. The diner man came up behind her with food for the two women.

"Babette, Patty, why the hell are you encouraging this woman?" he inquired.

"Oh, calm down, Luke. She only wanted part of the paper," the red-haired woman, Patty, responded with a small laugh.

Now, he rounded on Lorelai. "Stop bothering my customers."

"But I wasn't bothering them," Lorelai protested.

And then she spotted it. Just behind his ear; a pencil. Her eyes gleamed in triumph. As Luke turned away, she plucked the pencil from behind his ear. Enraged, he turned around again, "Give that back!"

"Calm down, you'll get it in a second," Lorelai breathed, "Honestly, you're like my daughter when she was two, with her picture books."

"D-Daughter?" he - Luke - stammered in surprise.

"Yeah, daughter. Rory, to be specific," Lorelai replied absently, quickly scrawling a sentence onto the small piece of paper she had ripped from the paper.

She handed over his pencil. He grunted his thanks and placed it back over his ear. Then he stared at the piece of paper.

"What's that?" he asked.

"What I 'bothered' your customers for. Here," she handed it to him. Reluctantly, Luke took the slip of paper. Their hands brushed, and he pulled away immediately, blushing ever so slightly.

He looked down at the paper.

"'You will meet an annoying woman today. Give her coffee and she'll go away!'" he read this aloud, managing a small grin at the end.

He looked up at the woman, a similar grin on her face, "Coffee please," she stated triumphantly.

She followed him to the counter, where she waited for him to return with a cup of fresh coffee. When he did, she frowned.

"What now?" he asked.

"You forgot about Rory," she turned her head to her daughter, who looked up at Luke hopefully.

"She looks like she's ten!" he exclaimed.

"I'm eleven," Rory corrected, "and I want coffee."

Lorelai smiled and turned back to Luke, flashing a proud smile, "so pour her some coffee, damn it!"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Watch the language."

"Why? So it doesn't run away?" she quipped.

Luke poured the girl some coffee and handed her the cup.

"Happy now?" he asked, almost sarcastically.

"Yep," Lorelai responded. Two seats at the counter cleared, and she and her daughter instantly climbed into them. By now, the rush was dying down, people eating faster than Lorelai would have thought possible.

"So, when's that going away supposed to kick in?" Luke asked, writing down something on one of the receipts.

"Whoever said _I _was the annoying woman?" she teased.

Luke stared at her, as if daring her to say she _wasn't_ the annoying woman.

"So you must be Luke," Lorelai changed the subject nervously.

"Yes, and you must be the annoying woman who was supposed to go away," Luke sighed. He was teasing, of course, merely messing with her mind. It was his style; sarcasm, feigned annoyance, but all the while never meaning what he said. He seemed to have misplaced his mind, however, for he forgot that she had never met him before, and therefore knew little - if not nothing at all - about him.

"Well fine," Lorelai said in a feigned, angry tone. She swung herself away from the counter and started for the door with Rory following behind her.

"Wait," the single syllable made her stop. _Wait_. Well, it was supposed to, but Lorelai rarely ever took orders.

"Who are you?" he asked curiously. Never had he met someone like her, and he wasn't about to let her get away without letting on to her name.

"Lorelai Gilmore," she replied promptly, "I live at the Independence."

"Live there?" he asked in surprise. "You mean you're just there all the time working you practically live there?" he questioned.

Lorelai laughed, "No. My daughter and I; we live there. Mia took us in."

Luke blinked in surprise, "Oh…"

With a single nod, Lorelai and her daughter walked out of the establishment, down the steps, and on to the sidewalk.

Luke, for some reason, saw the need to follow them out. As the duo retreated down the sidewalk, he couldn't help but call, "I'm Luke!" to their retreating figures.

Lorelai tossed a glance over her shoulder, amusement flashing in her eyes.

"Yeah, we got that."

They left him alone on his stairs, thinking about how they had ended up in Stars Hollow, living at the Independence Inn with Mia. _How does she even afford to care for her daughter? _Luke thought. And more importantly, _wasn't she too young to have a daughter?_ She didn't look more than twenty seven, and he learned her daughter was eleven, which meant that she had her daughter when she was only sixteen. So many questions, but he knew he'd find out everything he wanted to know eventually; they were bound to return, for no one could ever resist his coffee.

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The two to-go cups in their hands, mother and daughter walked down the sidewalk back to the Independence.

"Good coffee," Rory remarked.

"_Great _coffee," Lorelai corrected.

"New daily?" Rory asked.

Lorelai nodded, "Definitely."

"Luke's not going to be thrilled to see you again," her daughter laughed.

"Oh, I bet he will…" Lorelai disagreed, remembering the way their hands had brushed when she had handed him the horoscope. She had seen the color flood his cheeks and something spark behind his eyes, but had not bothered pointing it out.

No, she'd be back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, _and _the day after that.

Despite what she had written, there was no way she was ever going to go away.

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**So there we go! **

**Hm. I dunno how I like it. /=**

**Love it? Hate it?**

**I don't care, review it. ^^**


	2. A Potting Shed is Not a Home

**I decided to make this story a three-shot.**

**Three chapters, yes siree! (:**

**I've been a little... lacking... in my story ideas and inspiration, hence why I haven't updated in ages.**

**But I'm working on changing that, starting with two additions to The Lorelai's First Day at Luke's_._**

**One more chapter is in store for this before I'm done with it (maybe. ;)). We'll see. (:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls. End of story.**

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Lorelai Gilmore, her purse swung over her shoulder and her daughter bouncing along beside her, strolled down the Stars Hollow sidewalk, her destination set firmly in her mind.

Day Two: Commence.

"Coffee?" Rory asked curiously.

"But of course!" Lorelai cried.

The two Gilmores shared a laugh, the eleven-year-old falling into the side of her mother, whose arm wrapped around her lovingly.

"We're not going to—"

"Won't he be _thrilled_?" Lorelai interjected laughingly, patting her daughter's arm.

"Oh, sure. That's one word," her daughter joked.

They trumped into the diner, the bell ringing sweetly above them as the door creaked open. Like any other morning, the diner was packed. Not as much as usual, but enough so that the only available seats were at the counter. This earned no complaint from the elder Gilmore; counter seats meant faster service, surely.

She dragged her daughter towards the counter and the two promptly sat upon the stools. Lorelai tapped her fingers on the countertop, looking around interestedly. The diner had many shelves, most of which seemed unnecessary to the business. Perhaps the space was once something else. She instantly remembered the "William's Hardware" sign on the outside, and deduced that before Luke had turned it into a diner, it was a hardware store. Yes, those amazing skills of Lorelai Gilmore were at work. The paint seemed faded; it probably hadn't had a good fresh layer of paint in years. She put this on her list of things to bug him about.

Oh yes, the Gilmore had taken up a new sport of terrorizing the young diner owner. But as if he didn't like it, right? Who couldn't resist Lorelai Gilmore? She cracked jokes and poked fun, but she knew when to draw the line. Just enough spice and sweetness.

She let out a sigh of impatience.

"Luke!" she caterwauled, drawing the surly owner out from the kitchen.

"I thought you said you were going away," he remarked dryly, though a hint of amusement prickled in his eyes.

"I never said I wouldn't come back," Lorelai retorted easily.

Towel thrown over his shoulder, Luke retreated from the kitchen into the main diner, easing behind the counter and grabbing the coffee pot. He pulled two empty cups from beneath the counter, filled them, and pushed them over towards the awaiting hands of Lorelai and Lorelai.

"That's three seventy-five," Luke informed.

She handed over the bills and watched as he stored them in the cash register. Just as he was about to close it, she stopped him.

"Wait!" she cried. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Geez!" he exclaimed with a groan, "what was that for?"

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to the paper in the register.

"Oh… nothing," he muttered quickly.

"No, it's not nothing. It's something. If it were nothing, there wouldn't be anything there, and there is something there, so it's something. Well, what is it?" she rambled.

Luke stared at her, wondering how on earth the woman before him could talk so quickly without taking a single breath.

"Trust me, I'd answer the question," her daughter spoke up.

"I… it's just… the horoscope from the other day," he confessed.

"Why?" Lorelai asked in confusion. Why had he kept it? Why had he not thrown it away?

"I… I don't know. I thought… maybe you'd want it back?" he offered lamely. He held it up sheepishly, his face turning a soft pink in embarrassment. Lorelai laughed. It made him smile. "Yeah… stupid…"

"No, it's not stupid," Lorelai gasped between her fit of giggles, "I mean, if I wanted to… you know… check my horoscope… I could always just pretend I'm a Scorpio…"

Luke frowned, "All right, that's enough."

"Sorry," Lorelai laughed again, "You know, keep it. One day, it could bring you luck. Put it in your wallet or something."

Luke stared at her peculiarly. Was she joking? He couldn't tell. She was an odd woman, that Lorelai Gilmore.

"I… are you serious?" he asked her warily.

"Never been seriouser," she replied. Luke ignored her use of the non-real word, his eyes narrowed at her. She was strange… he'd never encountered someone as… outspoken… as she was. He pulled out his wallet and tucked the horoscope safely inside, replacing it in his back pocket.

"There, safe and sound," he said.

"Good," Lorelai said, taking the cup of coffee in her hands and drinking it in thirstily. "Mmm, this is _delicious_. I hope you know I'm coming back tomorrow."

"Joy," Luke grumbled, though a small grin played onto his face.

"Yep, sure is!" Lorelai piped happily, "and the day after that. And the day after that. I'll come here every day until the day I die, even if that means being carted down the street in a wheelchair by my loving daughter."

"Oh… yay," Rory managed to put in, having kept quiet throughout most of the conversation.

"Oh don't worry," Lorelai patted her daughter lovingly, "by the time we get there, Luke'll have made a giant pot of coffee for your hard-earned work of wheeling Mommy down the street."

"Oh, good. Day well spent, then," Rory replied with a small laugh.

"Why, certainly!" Lorelai smiled.

Luke stared at the two of them like they were insane, "You have problems."

"Yes I do," Lorelai agreed without hesitation.

"You need to be in a mental institution," he continued.

"I think this town _is _a mental institution," she countered.

He stared at her blankly, and Lorelai took it as a sign to defend her position.

"You've got that crazy guy singing songs on the street corner, that woman smoking outside a dance studio seemingly twenty-four-seven, some idiot running down the street naked nearly every night, an insane klutz of a chef at the Independence who just happens to be my best friend, a guy who thinks he's town selectman but no one ever listens to him, and you, the surly diner owner who doesn't lighten up now and again," she rattled off, "not to mention that ungrateful Frenchman at the Independence who has an unhealthy obsession with Celine Dion."

"Wow. I say you'll fit right in," was Luke's only response.

She smiled, "maybe. I don't know if we'll be staying here all that long."

Rory looked up in surprise. "But Mom!" she exclaimed dramatically, "Lane and I were planning this awesome music marathon, and-"

"Calm down, sweetie," Lorelai laughed gently, "we're not going anywhere for a while. I was only thinking. But maybe when we've stockpiled enough money from Mia, we can find a nice house around here to call our own."

Rory nodded vigorously, "yes please!"

"We'll work on that," Lorelai smiled.

"So you really do live at the Independence..." Luke commented thoughtfully.

"Yeah... wasn't really kidding there," Lorelai replied.

"Do you like... live in one of the rooms?" he asked curiously.

"No, of course not. Mia gave us the potting shed out back. We've fixed it up a little. Nothing big, but... it'll get us by for now," Lorelai explained.

Luke stared at her blankly. They lived... in a potting shed. _A potting shed._ He stared at them. They didn't seem to mind it... but for whatever reason, the thought made him uneasy. They shouldn't be living in a potting shed. It just wasn't right. They didn't deserve that. They needed a better place to call home. A real house. He wasn't sure what chain of events had caused them to end up in Stars Hollow without anyone else - he had yet to hear her mention a husband or other family member - but he was determined to find out.

And he was determined to find them a better home.

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**If you can guess what might happen in the third chapter, feel free to take a guess. ^^**

**I was reading over the first chapter when I realized I left out the line, "She told me to hold onto that horoscope, put it in my wallet, and one day it would bring me luck," and thus... Chapter Two was born.**

**I'm not sure how much I like it, so...**

**Review, por favor? ^^;**


	3. In Search of Something More

**I've been thinking it over, and I think I **_**might **_**make this story into more than just three chapters. In fact, right now, it's a definite four chapters. I know, I keep changing it up on you guys; I do apologize. xDD Try not to get your hopes up too much – expect at **_**least **_**one more chapter, and if I get truly inspired, several more to come.**

**Disclaimer: Tralalalala… still not owning Gilmore Girls (unless the box sets count)!**

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Luke sat in his apartment, staring at the slip of paper in his hands. he had an idea - this _crazy _idea - ... but it _was _a _good _idea... he had talked Taylor into letting him see the Town Elders, much to the reluctance of them, and they had agreed with him. His plan was viable. It was... kind. Thinking it over now, he wasn't exactly sure what made the Elders agree with him - they usually never agreed with Luke Danes. He was notoriously known throughout the town of Stars Hollow was the gruff, surly, anything-but-polite diner owner of Stars Hollow. Granted, he had his moments, but those moments were scarce and far between. Really, there was no reason for the Elders to agree with him - to oppose Taylor's immediate answer of "No." But they had. And, come to think of it, maybe Luke _did _know why. For in what seemed like years, Lucas Danes was doing something for the good of someone else. He saw a problem, and he sought a way to fix it. Usually, Luke was the one to sit idly by the sidelines, keeping his comments and advice to himself. But here he was, making a point to help someone. Who could argue with that?

There was a house - next to Babette's, in fact - that had been unoccupied for some time. The price on it wasn't cheap - quite the opposite - but with much persuasion and a little heated words, Luke was able to belittle the Elders into dropping the price. See, the house wasn't owned by anyone specifically. It belonged to the town, having been left to them when it was not properly stated in someone's will of whom to give it to. So, in result, the house ended up in the ownership of the town - the Town Elders specifically. The price was now fairly cheap - just in the price range of one young man. And now... here he was in his apartment, a check nestled in his hands. He didn't really have a plan, but he had a direction. The check, though written out, was not addressed to anyone in particular. This was partly because he desired to speak with one Independence Inn owner before making anything final.

Ever since a week ago when Lorelai entered his life, he couldn't seem to put her out of his mind. She and her daughter lived in a potting shed. A _potting _shed. That was not a home. It was barely even a shed. And he didn't like that at all. No one deserved to live like that. No one. And if Luke knew someone in trouble like that, he'd do anything to help them.

There was just something about this woman that he liked - that fascinated him. Maybe it was her lively personality; that cheerful ray of sun that greeted him every afternoon at precisely 12:07; that bright voice that seemed like nothing could bring it down. Maybe it was because she was so witty; so ready with comebacks and random replies. She seemed so open, like nothing in her life was a secret. He had yet to meet many other people such as her.

Yes, Rachel was fairly close. But she was flighty. She wasn't happy with a solid, sturdy life. She liked to be on the move; liked to see new things. And Luke... he wasn't ready to give her that. Stars Hollow was - and is - his home. It's his comfort zone. He fits in. Even if Taylor was annoying and Kirk was... insane, he couldn't imagine a life outside of Stars Hollow. Rachel had left him partly due to this. She just... left. Up and left him... alone. But the new girl in town - Lorelai - didn't seem like that at all. She knew what she wanted from life. She knew where she was headed. Her daughter seemed pretty set on staying in Stars Hollow, so in Stars Hollow they would stay. She wasn't about to rip her away from her new friends, after all.

He wasn't exactly sure what compelled him to do this. He didn't owe her anything; there was nothing she had done to truly deserve this. Yet here he was, about to give away a considerably large sum of money to a slightly-random-but-not-so-much-so stranger. He just wasn't sure why he was doing this. But he was. And he wasn't going to back down now. Maybe it was because he felt no one should live in a shed; a shed behind an inn with so little to their name. Maybe it had to do with the woman's daughter, and that he believed no young girl should be forced to live in something so ratty when she had done nothing to deserve it. But none of those answers made sense. He knew he was just making excuses up now; providing reasons he should do this with little validity so he could prove to himself he should really finish this. In fact, he probably was doing just that.

But maybe- _no. _That couldn't be the reason he was about to do this.

He refused to accept that.

He walked blindly up the path to the Independence Inn, the check tucked safely into his pocket. He took a deep breath. _Calm yourself, Luke. _Easing the door open, he stepped inside and looked around. He had only been in the Independence Inn a few times, but only when Mia's normal maintenance man was sick or otherwise unable to come in. He had never _really _looked at the Inn, but he took the time to do so now. It only took him a few seconds to realize Michel Gerard, the Frenchman who manned the front desk, was glaring at him. Quickly, he turned away, heading in any direction but for the main desk. Unfortunately for him, Michel spotted him, left his post, and marched over authoritatively.

"You there," he barked, his thick French accent ringing in Luke's ears. Reluctantly, Luke turned around.

"What?" he frowned.

"I do not believe Mia requested your assistance today," Michel hardly seemed interested in the conversation, choosing to - instead of look directly at Luke - stare at his fingernails instead. His eyes were narrowed in focus, but he still lingered for a response. It seemed as if his fingernails were much more fascinating than the man before him. And to Michel, they were.

"I'm not here to fix your inn," Luke grumbled.

"Well then why are you here?" Michel probed curiously, drawing his eyes away from his nails.

"I- that's none of your concern."

"It most certainly is of my concern!" Michel whined, stamping his foot in outrage.

Luke gave a small smile at Michel's annoyance, but side-stepped him and continued on his way for Mia's office. Only three times had he been in Mia's office, and only three times had he forgotten how to get there. He wandered around aimlessly for a while, before a maid pointed the way for him. Again.

And with that, he was off.

* * *

"That's a wonderful idea, Luke!" Mia cried when they were done with the 'hello's and Luke had shared his idea.

He nodded sheepishly.

"What are you thinking?" Mia asked when she noticed Luke's brow furrow, a sign that he was thinking.

"I don't think she'd take money from someone she barely knows. She knows you very well though, Mia. She speaks highly of you in the diner. Maybe... maybe you could give her the money? As a... maybe as a bonus?" Luke inquired.

"That's a pretty large bonus, Luke," Mia laughed.

Luke frowned, "Oh... right." He thought harder. "Maybe as a bonus and... I don't know. Say that you're just helping her along, with finances and everything? Or maybe you could give her a promotion, and -"

"I'll think of something," Mia cut in, waving her hand to silence the now-rambling Lucas.

The man quieted.

"Do you ever plan on telling her you helped her with this dream?" Mia asked curiously.

"Er... maybe," Luke said un-surely, "E-E-Eventually." He pulled the check from his pocket and made it out to Mia, then handed it over. Mia, in turn, wrote her own check addressed to Lorelai Gilmore. He smiled. "Thanks for this, Mia."

Mia shook her head, "No, Luke. If anyone deserves the thanking in this room, it's definitely not me. You're making her dreams come true. She'll finally have somewhere to call her own. Somewhere to raise her daughter away from the prying eyes of the other staff and guests. Somewhere she and her daughter can be... themselves. You're an angel to this girl, Luke - to both of them."

Luke remained silent in the seat, then stood up and left without another word, Mia's eyes boring into his back as he did so.

* * *

"Hey Luke! _Luke! Lucas!_ Answer me! I'm having a seizure! Oh, I'm dying! Come on, Luke! Get in here!_" _Lorelai Gilmore bounced into the diner, flopping onto the stool with ill-practiced precision, nearly falling out of the chair in her haste. She threw her small handbag onto the counter, pulled a slip of paper from it's depths, and waved it above her head like a two-year-old.

Luke pulled himself from the kitchen, sidling out with the towel thrown over his shoulder. He gripped the edge of the counter, a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

"Have you gone completely _insane_?" he exclaimed, "there are customers in here! Lower your voice!"

"But Luke-!" she exclaimed still, waving her arm around maniacally.

"_Inside _voice," he scolded her like she really was two. "I'm listening."

"But Luke," she repeated in a whisper almost mockingly, to which he rolled his eyes. "Mia! She gave me this _huge _bonus for work. At first I wouldn't take it, but she insisted and, well... I can't say no to her! So I took it, and I looked at it, and it's... wow! I could buy a house with this money. _A house! _There's one in the neighborhood I've been keeping my eye on for a while, and the price just dropped a lot! Can you believe that!"

"N-no..." Luke choked out as best he could, hoping he sounded even the least bit believable. Lorelai didn't seem to notice, being too preoccupied with, to say it simply, freaking out.

"Calm down," Luke chided, though he couldn't help but allow himself a small smile. Seeing her happy was... it was amazing. Her eyes lit up a thousand times brighter than they normally were; shining pools of crystal blue. She would ramble when she got excited, he noticed, distantly hearing her go on and on about why she couldn't calm down, the reasons varying from the normal as he let her go on. She seemed unable to control herself. "Do you have any particular house in mind?"

And then, she really got talking. She went on and on about the house she had in mind, which just so happened to have dropped in price and was within her range. Inwardly, Luke smiled to himself. She described in detail the features of the house; the wrap-around porch, the Victorian-style, and the white painting. It was perfect for Lorelai Gilmore and her daughter.

Precisely three months and two weeks later, Lorelai and Rory were all moved in to their new home. Some furniture was sent from various friends' storage facilities and was added to the home. Even Mia chipped in to buy them some must-need items. It had taken a few weeks to finalize the papers that made the house theirs officially, and even a few more weeks to get the furniture to the house. Luke was their handyman, the man who moved all their furniture into their house. He took this at a leisurely pace, and the Gilmores held little complaint. They let him do so, and by the fourteenth week, it was finished. Lorelai, Rory, and Luke all stood in the front yard, staring up at it proudly.

"This is amazing," Lorelai breathed.

"It's ours?" Rory asked, as if she still couldn't believe it. And perhaps she couldn't; for eleven years she had lived in the potting shed of the Independence Inn.

"Yes, sweetie. It's ours. It's not much right now, but it'll do," Lorelai confirmed. She patted her daughter's head, letting her run free towards the house, up the stairs, and inside to explore. Then, she turned to Luke.

"Thanks," she smiled.

"Oh... it's no big deal," Luke objected quietly.

"Luke..." she disagreed softly, shaking her head.

"I... I just thought you'd need help moving in. Seeing as... no one's really around... to... help," he trailed off awkwardly, subtly hinting at the absence of Rory's father. Lorelai caught it, but payed it no attention.

"I don't think that's the only reason," Lorelai argued.

"I don't know. I thought you deserved... something better," he added after a few moment's silence. In that moment, he realized his slip up. He cringed for a moment, but hoped Lorelai hadn't evaluated what he'd just said. But she had. Oh, she had.

"You thought... I deserved... _Luke!_" she broke off, "you didn't...?"

Luke cursed under his breath, "Lorelai, I-"

"Don't say anything, please, Luke," Lorelai cut him off, closing her eyes to get a full grasp on the situation. He had paid for their house, not Mia. He had given up a large sum of money for two people he barely even knew. "I appreciate it, I do. It's... _so _nice of you... I don't think I deserve this," she managed, a tear trailing down her cheek. She brushed it away stupidly.

"You do deserve this. You _do_," Luke argued forcefully. "I haven't known you all that long, but I've caught wind from the two gossipers in town, Babette and Patty. They know everything that happens around here. You ran away from home at sixteen with your daughter, who was just barely one year old. You sought shelter in the Independence Inn. Mia took you in and gave you a job. She also gave you the potting shed. You worked as a maid. Lorelai, you build yourself a new life from the ground, up. You left your life of prosperity and wealth for something less-"

"No," Lorelai argued, "for something more."

This earned a smile from Luke. A bright smile, one that wasn't seen too often.

"Lorelai-"

"Thank you, Luke. I... I don't know what I'd do without you around," Lorelai said, "I-... It'd be forever until we got a house if you hadn't done... this," she gestured vaguely at their surroundings.

"I'd also like... to offer you something else," Luke added almost hesitantly, unsure of how she would accept the offer.

"No, Luke, you've done enough," she said quickly, shaking her head in rejection.

"No, just... one more thing. The house needs a lot of work. it hasn't been lived in a while; there are still some things to fix. Every year on your birthday, I'm giving you five free hours of handyman work. I'll do anything you need me to do around the house in five hours," he explained. As Lorelai opened her mouth to argue, he swiftly cut her off, "and don't bother arguing. This is something you can't back out of."

She cracked a smile. More tears streamed down her face, and she swiped them away with her sleeve.

Unexpectedly, she launched herself at Luke, wrapping her arms around his neck in a warm, heartfelt hug.

"You're an amazing guy, Luke," Lorelai smiled, "any woman should be lucky to have you."

* * *

**THE END. ****For now.**

**I've got one more thing definitely in store for this story, which will be Chapter Four. After that, I don't know if there'll be more. ****There might be. I have a few options to go with if I wanted to continue this story. (:**

**Anyway, tell me what you think by leaving a review.**

**I had an overwhelming number of emails about this story, but there were only a few reviews (compared to a bazillion and one alerts). I think this needs to be resolved.**

**So, leave a review...**

**...Please? 8D~**

**P.S. - && Cookies to anyone who can spot the Season 7 reference. :33**


	4. A Needle Pulling Thread

**Ohhaii. (: Long time no see, eh? Yeah, sorry 'bout that. But the good news is, _there might be one more chapter to this_. **

**hehehe... **

**I was planning for Lorelai and Luke to get together at the end of Chapter Four, but it just didn't play out right. The mood wasn't right, the feeling wasn't there, and I just didn't see it happening. So, in result, I set up the chance for _one more _chapter in which JavaJunkie will take flight. **

**I keep changing my mind and all, and I'm terribly sorry. However, this, I think, is set in stone. If I can get it to play out right, there will be _no more _to this fanfic after Chapter Five. P:**

**And then I can successfully say I finished a fanfiction that _was not _a one-shot. And I will feel highly accomplished.**

**Anyway, enough of my rambling. ONWARD, YOUNG GRASSHOPPER.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Gilmore Girls, Christopher Hayden would have stayed with Sherry and led a happy life with her and Gigi. In Paris. Faaarrr away from Lorelai and Luke.**

* * *

Two weeks later, a lot had changed in the Gilmore household. New furniture had been added to the house, including an old T.V. from the Independence and kitchenware – which so far had never been used. Most things they needed in order to function were present, except for the guardrail on the landing of the stairs, which Luke promised to install "first thing in the morning"… twelve hours ago.

The two Gilmores were sprawled out on the couch watching the famously referenced (in the Gilmore lifestyle) _The Wizard of Oz_.

"I'll get you my pretty, and your little homework, too!" Lorelai mimicked the Wicked Witch in her best 'Wicked Witch' voice, waving maniacal fingers in Rory's face.

Her daughter simply rolled her eyes. "Mom, this is due _tomorrow_. Pardon me if my focus isn't solely on _The Wizard of Oz_."

"_If I only had another day…" _Lorelai sang. Rory groaned her annoyance.

"Mom, no. Please."

"_I could do my homework tomorrow – hang out with my… Madro! _If _I only had another day…" _

"One- the correct term is 'madre,'—"

"But _madre _doesn't rhyme!" Lorelai pouted.

"—and two- I'm never watching this movie with you ever again."

Lorelai gasped. "Don't be silly, Toto!"

"No more Oz for the Wicked Witch of the West," Rory threatened, remote in her hand as she trained it at the television.

"You wouldn't…"

The Gilmores stared off. Rory, her face set, determined not to let her mother win this battle. Lorelai, her face scrunched up in a look of sheer effort and determination. Rory broke first, giving a small laugh at the image her mother had created.

"Fine," she said grudgingly, "you win."

"Yes!" Lorelai threw up her hands, "sweet _victory_!"

"There's something wrong with you," Rory muttered.

"Ah, but then there's something wrong with you too, Chickadee. Why aren't you more like me?" Lorelai teased.

"Hey – I eat your food. I like your music. I share your affinity to the Godfather. I'm basically your clone. Allow me some individuality, please? Before I go completely insane?"

Lorelai let out a small _hmpf _of annoyance, but sat back against the couch. She stared at the movie for a few moments, seeing it but not.

"We need a dog," she muttered, "a dog would side with me."

"No," Rory objected without hesitation.

"But why?" Lorelai frowned.

"Need I remind you of the hamster, Skippy?" Rory asked pointedly.

Lorelai folded her arms across her chest like an upset child who wasn't getting what they wanted. "No, you needn't. And that hamster was insane."

Rory laughed. "Right, sure."

"Okay, you know what, Ms. Negativity?" Lorelai asked in slight annoyance, though a hint of humor dripped in her tone, "I'm going upstairs. Do _not _eat my chicken." She pointed to her plate of food – piled high with junk food and the like.

"You know, I think that's your most used phrase. It just _might _have to go on your tombstone," Rory remarked.

"Ha ha," Lorelai laughed sarcastically, "very funny. But seriously, don't. _I'll be back_."

"We watch too much TV around here," Rory observed.

"Ain't that the truth?" Lorelai responded, retreating from her post on the couch to march up the stairs, humming _If I Only Had a Heart _as she went.

Upstairs, she wandered aimlessly through her things. There wasn't really a reason she had gone upstairs… at least, not in the basic sense. The only reason, really, she had gone upstairs was for dramatic effect. Because, of course, everyone knew what a drama queen Lorelai Gilmore could be. She spent a few minutes sewing, working on a dress for Rory for an upcoming dance at Stars Hollow Middle School – not that she really had anyone to go _with_, but almost every year Lorelai was able to persuade Mrs. Kim into allowing Lane to tag along. That is, of course, after Lane promised not to kiss any boys or go home with them.

When the doorbell rang, Lorelai gave an annoyed sigh, "Rory! Can you get that?" Her daughter, curled up on the couch with her homework finished and set aside, gave a lazy response of 'no.' Sighing, Lorelai made her way towards the top of the stairs, rambling as she went. "You know, most households make the person closest to the door answer it. I guess you can consider yourself lucky since I, your wonderful and loving mother, am going to get the door myself, _even though_, I'm farther away than –"

With a horrified shriek, Lorelai's sentence abruptly cut off as she lost her footing at the top of the stairs, stumbling down the long flight, off the landing (which unfortunately did not have a railing on it yet), and onto the floor with a sickening 'thud.' She gave a small wail of pain, writhing on the floor uncontrollably. In a haste, Rory sprang from the couch, dumped her homework on the floor, and rushed to her mother's aid.

"Mom!" she exclaimed fearfully, bending down over her mother's body. She stared down at her worriedly, her thoughts overcome by emotions and fear. The figure at the door banged on the door again.

"Rory? What was that?" It was Luke. Reluctantly, Rory left her mother's side, raced to open the door, and scurried back, leaving Luke to let himself in on his own. He stepped in with a smile, but, upon noticing Rory hovered over a figure on the floor, quickly joined her. He left the toolbox by the door. "What happened?" he asked immediately.

"She uhm… fell down the stairs," Rory stammered, "she'll be okay though, right?"

Luke looked down at Lorelai, placing a firm grip on her arm. "Lorelai? Lorelai? Can you hear me?"

"Of course I can, idiot," Lorelai responded almost immediately, teeth gritted in pain. Luke glanced pointedly at Rory.

"I never said she was unconscious…" Rory defended.

"Alright, uhm… I'm going to make sure you don't have any broken bones, okay?" Luke asked. Without waiting for the a-okay from her, he tenderly touched places on her arms, staring at her face to see if the touch elicited any response. As he lightly brushed her leg, she gave a cry of pain, shifting involuntarily and screwing up her face fitfully. "Yeah, definitely a broken bone here. I'm gonna go get someone over here. I'll be back. Rory, keep an eye on her."

Rory gave a small nod and sat cross-legged beside her mother, talking softly to her. Luke smiled briefly before taking the phone into the kitchen. He returned only moments later. "Someone should be here soon."

And soon enough, someone did. The door, still left ajar, was quickly occupied by one lanky figure with a medical kit, who strolled over authoritatively and looked down on Lorelai.

"And who do we have here…" he asked, mostly to himself.

"Kirk!" Luke shouted in annoyance. The townie looked up at him confused.

"That's my name," he confirmed.

"Why are _you _here?"

"You called me."

"I called a professional," Luke pointed out.

"I am a professional," the man stated.

"You are not a professional. Not unless your profession is being a royal pain."

"Well, I do have a job with the Royal Sho—"

"Never mind, Kirk," Luke seethed, "just get someone else in here."

"There is no one else."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"I don't _have _to," Kirk responded.

"This argument is lovely and all," Rory interjected in slight annoyance, "but one of you – or both of you – needs to help my mom."

Several days later, Lorelai was living the life of luxury sprawled out on her couch, her leg propped up on the arm. She had a bowl of popcorn in her lap and chewed at it deliciously, savoring each and every taste with a satisfied air.

"How long do you plan to keep this up?" Rory inquired teasingly.

"Until I run out of excuses not to move," Lorelai responded.

"So, in other words, forever," she translated.

"Sounds about right," Lorelai nodded.

"You'll have to get up eventually."

"You sound too much like Emily Gilmore. You're scaring me," Lorelai said with a frightened tone, looking up at her daughter childishly.

A knock sounded at the door, but before Rory could rush to answer it, the figure let himself in and navigated into the living room.

"You know your door is unlocked, right?" he asked.

"'Course I do," Lorelai responded simply.

"So," the man continued, "some burglar could just waltz in here and smack you upside the head and steal your stuff!"

"Luke, I highly doubt some burglar is going to _waltz _into my house."

"You know what I mean," he sighed in annoyance.

"What burglar would live in Stars Hollow? The best thing to steal would be in Kim's Antiques – all the old, antique furniture. But you'd be out of your mind to rob that place. Mrs. Kim would beat you with a broomstick," Rory interjected.

"Yeah!" Lorelai agreed, "What she said!"

Luke rolled his eyes, "I have walked into a psych ward."

"Okay, Mr. Over-Protective. I'll lock my door from now on. Now, what do you want? You're interrupting my T.V. time."

"I have to go to school," Rory started.

"I'm glad one of us remembered."

"So I called Luke to make sure you don't do anything you shouldn't be doing," her daughter finished.

"What?" Lorelai asked in mock offense, "I am _not _two."

"Really? Are you quite sure?" Luke asked.

Lorelai shot him an ungrateful look. _Not helping, Burger Boy. I'm sure you don't want to be here any more than I do. _

"Of course I'm sure," she responded.

"Well, just in case you _decide _to suddenly turn to and complain like a two-year-old for things you cannot reach, Mr. Backwards-Baseball-Cap is here to watch you. So be nice, and Mommy will be back in a few hours," Rory explained motherly to her… mother. Oh, irony.

Lorelai _hmpf_ed in annoyance, but leaned back against the couch willingly. "Fine."

She wasn't really annoyed, of course. She liked having Luke for company; it was fun to annoy him. But it was also fun to talk to him; to get to know him. It was fun to just hang out alone now and again with him. Aside from Sookie St. James, the new chef at the Independence (which she was currently taking a break from, obviously), Lucas Danes was her closest friend and companion. She could tell him anything, and he; likewise (not that he ever did). She waved her daughter off in the general direction of the door and the Stars Hollow Middle School student hurried out the door and down the street toward the Kim's home.

And that left Luke and Lorelai alone.

Silence quickly ensued. Followed my more silence. And, you guessed it, _more _silence.

"Please, for the love of all that is good and coffee-like, say _something_," Lorelai broke the silence impatiently, switching her gaze from the television, which had once captured her attention, to Luke, who sat in the chair silently.

"Nothing to say," Luke shrugged.

"You're boring," Lorelai pouted.

"You're insane," Luke countered.

"At least being insane is fun," she argued.

"And being boring is not?" Luke inquired.

More silence.

"Think about that sentence, Luke," Lorelai finally said, doing her best to withhold a laugh (which, regrettably, wasn't that great).

"I didn't come here to babysit you. I came here to entertain you and keep you company," Luke sighed.

"Define _babysit _then," Lorelai said in confusion.

And… more silence.

It was strange, Lorelai realized, to be alone with Luke. They were usually never alone. Sure, they _talked _alone, but there was always someone around – someone who _might _pick up on their conversation. Luke's? the other diner-goers. And… well, there really wasn't anywhere else that they were around each other. Lorelai Gilmore ate, slept, and breathed Luke's coffee.

"So uhm… when are you going to get out of that cast?" Luke inquired.

"Soon… I hope," Lorelai grumbled, "it's a pain. I can't get anything for myself."

"You rarely get anything for yourself anyway," Luke stated without thought. Lorelai stared at him, a glimmer of genuine hurt in her eyes. Luke caught it instantly. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, "I didn't mean it like—I didn't mean… I – wasn't… thinking…" he stuttered.

"It's fine," Lorelai lied, "it's not… important…"

Luke eyed her cautiously, but said nothing. "You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," she replied somewhat icily.

"'Cause you don't see-"

"I'm fine, Luke. I'm _fine_," Lorelai snapped.

Luke quieted immediately, afraid of offending her any more. An extended period of silence – there seemed to be a lot of that lately – enveloped the Gilmore household. Silently, he cursed himself. He knew that was the wrong thing to say, so why did he say it? Why? What possessed him to say such a horrid thing to Lorelai Gilmore, possibly the only citizen of Stars Hollow that he could (somewhat) stand on a daily basis - perhaps his only _real _friend in the godforsaken town of Stars Hollow.

He gave a small sigh. She was annoyed, he knew. It was clear on her face. But Lorelai was the proud Gilmore she was, and she would die before admitting he had really hurt her feelings. He knew he had. But he was never one for gushy emotions, and he'd never try to persuade her into explaining. It was a difficult situation they were in.

Luke Danes stared at her curiously, an apology clear in his eyes. She blinked once. Forgiveness. A small smile drew to his face, but he pushed it away almost instantly. No, Luke Danes did not smile. Not to Lorelai Gilmore. To Lorelai Gilmore, that was a dangerous thing for him to do. One smile from him and he'd be over. He'd be… lost in the isle of Lorelai. Lost in a land of no return. A smile could insinuate too much; it could blow his cover. His cover of indifference and self-support. His cover of, 'No, Lorelai and I are just friends.'

And he couldn't let his cover be blown. Not yet, anyway.

"Hey Luke?" Lorelai asked suddenly, nervously.

"What?" Luke asked gruffly.

"Why?"

'Why what?"

"You know 'Why what?'," she responded, "why did you buy the house? _Why_?"

It was clear this question had been nagging at her for a while now. She forced herself to a sitting position and angled herself to face him, her bright blue eyes piercing his.

He fumbled for an answer. He couldn't tell her the real answer, could he? He couldn't say the _real _reason… could he? No… he couldn't. Not yet, anyway. Not _so _close after his break-up with… Rachel… That had only been a few months back. He wasn't quite ready for another relationship, was he? Not when the relationship could go wrong in so many ways… And he didn't want to ruin this. He couldn't ruin this.

"I…" he began, struggling to find the right words. "It's like I said before. You deserved it. You ran away from home with your newborn daughter. You found a place to take you in and you got a job. You raised Rory from a child all on your own with no help from anyone. You _run _the Independence now. You came here as almost nothing, and now you've made something of yourself. I just though… someone needed to... recognize… what you've done. For you, Rory… Mia. I've known Mia since I was a kid. She's never had children of her own, but she's always wanted them. You're like a daughter to her. The daughter she never had. And… I just thought Mia's daughter deserved more."

Wow. That was the most he had _ever _said at once. And something so… personal, too. It was weird for him, definitely. Lorelai stared at him, confused. He could tell that wasn't the answer she was looking for. He opened his mouth to elaborate in some way, but couldn't think of anything.

"I don't think that's it, Luke," Lorelai responded finally, her wary eyes staring at him with a lost expression.

"I don't know, Lorelai," Luke sighed, "I don't know why I did. But you have a house now, right? And you don't need to save up for one anymore. You can put it to something else. A new car or something of the like."

Luke gave an inward sigh. Good, she had given up the questioning. He looked around the house with interest, examining all that had changed since the last time he had been over. It wasn't much, but it was enough to attract his attention. He allowed his gaze to wander, never once letting it rest on Lorelai for more than a few seconds. That would be strange for him.

"So…" he trailed.

"_Sew, a needle pulling thread…_" Lorelai sang softly.

"Geez. What is that, _The Wizard of Oz_?" Luke asked.

"_The Wizard of Oz_! Luke, it's _The Sound of Music_. Classic."

"The sound of music? What is that? It sounds boring," Luke replied.

Lorelai stared at him. And stared. And stared.

"I'll… stop talking."

"Good idea," Lorelai laughed. "But really, you need to come over some other time and watch some movies. You're going to look like one deprived adult if you go around blabbing that you haven't seen _The Sound of Music_. No one will want to talk to you."

"I prefer it that way, actually," Luke responded.

"You know what I mean," Lorelai argued. "It's decided. Tomorrow, you're going to watch Classics with me. I'm talking Gilmore Classics. _The Sound of Music_, _The Wizard of Oz_, _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_, _Casablanca_, _Cool Hand Luke_, _The Godfather_… It'll be a movie marathon." Before Luke could even think of objecting, she continued eagerly, "and no, you're not getting out of this. I'm going to tell Rory to kidnap you from your diner again for the day."

"Gosh, you're like a needle."

"And you're the thread I'm pulling. So don't argue."

* * *

**So, there we go (for now).**

**I won't make any promises about a new chapter anytime soon since I'm flooded with AP US History homework and Algebra II Honors homework as of late. I simply can't find the time to write as much as I used to. HOPEFULLY, I'll have something up before Christmas (hey, maybe I'll try and update all of my ongoing works as a Christmas present), but there will definitely NOT be an update before Thanksgiving. I'll be in Disney World (and the Wizarding World of Harry Potter), soo...**

**Happy Early Thanksgiving! (:**

**Review pleaseee ~**

**xx Puppet !**


	5. The End in the Beginning

**Look who finished!**

**This story is now _complete_. **

**I'm not sure what I think of the ending, so tell me your thoughts?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls.**

* * *

Tomorrow could not come soon enough for Lorelai Gilmore, who spent most of her day planning her evening with Luke Danes. One night. One long movie marathon. Still confined to the couch, she persuaded her daughter to run errands for her; picking up movies they didn't have that Lorelai felt _had _to be present at the movie night, buy food at Doose's Market that Lorelai felt she simply _couldn't_ live without… Lorelai Gilmore was living the life of a millionaire, with her daughter as her single servant, and she had no complaints.

Lorelai knew that Luke was working the diner, and had therefore arranged for the movie night to commence at precisely 8pm. Luke, being the owner of his diner, could leave whenever he wanted - Caesar could close for him, as he so unwittingly let slip a few days previous. She wasn't about to let that fact escape her use. Rory would be at Lane's, again. She couldn't help but smile at the friendship her daughter had built. Even though Lane came from a strict Korean family, the young girl was anything but her parents, and her disposition clicked well with that of her daughter's. If not for Lane Kim, Rory Gilmore could have easily been swept up in the wrong crowd. Every day, she found herself thankful for the people she had met.

Mia was at the top of her list as the woman who had given her a home. Even though it was a potting shed, it was a home. She had also given her a job as a young girl, and she quickly helped her rise in ranks.

Babette closely followed as one of the most eccentric, yet downright caring, women she had ever met. She had a certain air about her that one would recognize in a crowd of people, and her pipes… well, they weren't easily forgotten.

But one of the single most important persons she had encountered since living in Stars Hollow was none other than Luke Danes. She was one of his biggest customers. She went to the diner whenever she could, ordered cups upon cups of coffee, and bickered with the surly owner until she got her way. And now, here she sat, in her new home courtesy of the very man who rejected all feelings of human emotion.

It pleased her to know that she had such loving and caring people surrounding her, and she never let herself think about her previous life. She never let regret or guilt creep into her conscious. She had nothing to regret, she had nothing to feel guilty about.

Before she knew it, eight o'clock had crept upon her. She was seated comfortably on her couch, curled up as much as her leg would allow. Rory had commemorated the single, solitary moment of movement from Lorelai by taking a picture when she was at the top of the staircase. Technically, she wasn't allowed to be on her feet, but the desire to use the restroom had been all too much. Aside from that, she had not moved from her post. She was a breathing, living statue.

With the movies stacked on the coffee table - which was used as more of a fast food/junk table than anything else - and the food strewn about wherever she had room, she glanced at her clock. 8:10pm.

"Come on, Luke! You slow poke! You're not the Queen of England; you can't be late to your own shindig!" she cried out in impatience like a young child, tossing her head towards the air in a grand gesture.

"This is not my 'shindig,'" a voice remarked, "and your door is unlocked again."

Lorelai frowned, "so lock the door."

He did.

"There," Lorelai piped happily, "it's locked now. Now come sit down; you're late!"

He gave a disgruntled sigh, but joined her on the couch nevertheless.

"Are you ready for the best movie marathon you've ever had?" she asked enthusiastically.

"Sure. Let's get started."

"Oh, no, no, no," Lorelai argued, 'this is not a 'sure, let's get started' type of movie night. This is a 'let's sing along and cry with the characters' movie night. I changed the theme. We're now watching the best comedy classics and the best Gilmore classics."

"Wonderful," he replied dryly.

"Okay, so we're starting now…" Lorelai trailed off.

"I get it," Luke replied, motioning to the TV, "start the movies."

"Um, no, I—" Lorelai turned towards him, "I don't think you get it. We're starting the movies. There's a couple rules."

"_Rules_?" Luke asked in distaste, "what kind of movie night has _rules_?"

"Uh, my kind," Lorelai retorted, "number one. No getting up. It ruins the atmosphere. You must stay planted. That means no bathroom breaks unless we're between movies. So make sure you don't drink a lot so—"

"I got it, Lorelai," Luke interrupted uncomfortably.

"Fine. Next: no talking. Period. You have questions, you wait. We also don't answer the phone or the door," Lorelai explained.

"Can't I just go to prison instead?" Luke asked.

"Okay, we can start now," Lorelai ignored his comment, turning back towards the television and reaching for the remote.

The screen was blank for a few minutes before it whirred to the VCR's predetermined setting.

"What's that?" Luke asked in confusion.

Lorelai paused. "Okay, first, no talking," she reminded, "second, you can't tell me you've never seen the FBI Warning before."

"Nope."

"You are _so weird_," she remarked with a small laugh.

"Oh, _I'm _the weird one in this crazy town?" he questioned in response.

They flew through the comedies in a flash; the Gilmore classics took a little more time. They got through Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, Cool Hand Luke, and The Wizard of Oz before the ultimate finale: Gone with the Wind.

It was already late into the night and several shots – if you could call them that – into the beer. It was essential to stay awake, for the restriction on movement per direction of Lorelai made going to the kitchen to make coffee a fruitless mission. It was currently intermission between the two parts of the movie. Luke was sitting, staring at the screen while Lorelai, yawning, was about to doze off. With only a few minutes left to intermission – of which they had been too lazy to fast-forward through – Luke gently nudged the woman awake.

She was barely awake, bordering between dreams and reality. She blinked groggily, but the TV and its surroundings were only a blur. With a wide yawn, she stretched her arms and arched her back sleeping, sinking back into the couch contently.

"Sorry," she apologized, "just… tired," she yawned again.

He made no comment. It _was _late; of course she would be tired. He nodded his understanding.

"It's almost over though, right? So you can go to bed and I'll get out of your hair then."

"Right, right," Lorelai sighed. She shifted into a more comfortable position on the coach, leaning against Luke as a pillow. She tossed her head onto his shoulder, burying under the blankets she had with a small shiver.

He sat there awkwardly, afraid that if he moved, she would shift. He didn't want her to. There was a certain… something… he liked about having her by his side, quite literally. There was something about the way it felt. It just felt… right. Sure, his right shoulder and arm were going numb, but that was unimportant. It didn't really matter how his shoulder and arm ended up; he lent a hand – or in this case, an arm – to anyone who needed one.

As the movie progressed, he realized neither of them was paying it much attention. He reached for the remote between them, slowly turning down the volume. Lorelai stirred from her stupor.

"It's not over," she argued.

"We weren't watching it anyway!" Luke defended.

"I was too! I was listening! It's my favorite scene!"

"Bonnie Blue is _dead_," Luke pointed out.

"Oh… well—"

"We can finish it later; you're tired," Luke decided.

"No I'm—" she yawned, "—not! … Okay fine, Sherlock. I'm tired. So? It's _movie night_! I can sleep later!" She got up, adjusted herself, and turned to him with wide eyes. "See? Wide awake." She stifled a yawn. "Look, I'll prove it. Ask me a question."

"How will this prove anything?" Luke asked, "the only thing that will prove is that you're not drunk, _which _you are. Drunken and tired."

"I am not," Lorelai pouted.

"You just told me Bonnie Blue's death was your favorite scene."

"I—" Lorelai stumbled, "it's a very dramatic scene. Dramatic scenes can't be my favorite scenes?"

"They can when they don't involve the death of a four year old who fell off a horse," Luke countered. Lorelai frowned.

"Fine, so I'm a bit tired. What's your point?"

"Sleep," Luke said, "I'll see you in the morning."

He moved to stand, patting Lorelai's leg as a sign of friendly affection as he did. He wandered into the kitchen, located another bottle of beer, and made his way back to the living room. Lorelai sat on the couch watching him tiredly, a small smile on her face.

"You really think I'm about to let you walk out of her with a beer and drive home?" she mused.

He turned to her with a small roll of his eyes, "I'll be fine."

"No, I don't think so," Lorelai argued. "Just stay here tonight."

"I have to open the diner in the morning," Luke said.

"Caesar can open it. Or you can just open late. But I'm not sending you home drunk. If I can't watch a movie, you can't go home."

Lorelai's bright eyes, usually sparkling with humor, were dark with seriousness, something she hardly ever was. Her eyes pierced him in determination. What Lorelai Gilmore wanted, she usually got. And she wasn't about to send Luke Danes stumbling home in the middle of the night.

He met her gaze evenly, weighing his options. Going home would be the best idea – he feared what would result from a night with Lorelai Gilmore, alone. Chaos and insanity were two things that came to mind. But he knew that if he went home, Lorelai would be furious. She had a right to be worried about him – she was his friend – but he liked to think that she wouldn't care much at all. It would have been easier for him that way. But of course, nothing in his life was easy. Nothing in his life had been easy since his mom died.

He heaved a sigh of surrender, walking unevenly back to the couch and sinking back into its cushions. He leaned back with a groan, rubbing his temples with his hands. This would be a long night.

"Fine, I'll stay," he agreed.

"Good," Lorelai smiled.

She turned over and leaned against him comfortably, tiredly. She blinked sleepily, her head resting against his shoulder. Yes, she was definitely tired. And a tired Lorelai equated to a host of consequences, most including anything within general vicinity becoming a pillow. She yawned.

"Thanks for spending tonight with me…" she muttered, "fun."

"Uh," Luke fumbled, "Sure. No problem."

Classic Luke response. Act nonchalant. Act like it was no big deal. But it always was. Particularly with Lorelai Gilmore, it was always a big deal. He always did little things to help her out; anything to keep himself on her radar. He did big things too… like buying the house. Now thinking about it, he realized how crazy it was. And how blatantly obvious it was. He didn't regret it, though. He wouldn't regret it for a minute.

The smile on Lorelai's face was worth it. To see Rory grow up in the house was worth it. To see them finally living on their own without depending on others… it was all worth it.

"Hey, Luke?" Lorelai asked.

"Hm?" Luke was half asleep, but he opened his eyes to look at Lorelai, who had shifted to meet his gaze as she spoke.

"Why? And I don't just want a simple answer like from the other day. There's more to the story than that. More than just 'you deserved more.' It's sweet and… amazing… and all, but I know there was more than that to your motive. _Why _did you buy us a house? What caused you to do this?" Her eyes were bright this time; curious. Genuine. And the same determination gleamed within their depths, eager for a true answer.

Like he usually did under stress, Luke wiped his hands on his jeans, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. He couldn't weasel his way out of this one. She was too smart for that. She had learned there was more to the story – or she had known it all along. Maybe now, she had built up the courage to ask him up front. Or maybe she was just drunk.

He stammered incomprehensively, taking off his baseball cap and wringing it in his hands. He stared at it for a moment, a small smile drawing to his face. His first baseball cap had been yellow – a gift from his father. A few days ago, Lorelai had given him a new one; a green one (she claimed the yellow did not suit his features). He hadn't worn the yellow one since.

He realized he hadn't said anything intelligent for a while, and he turned to her with a sharp eye. The moment of truth had come at last; on one hand, he was nervous. Yet in another light, he was completely calm. In the short amount of time he had known her, he had grown attached. Like a leech. He had fallen head over heels for her. He had never met anyone like her. He had never met anyone who had the humor she held, the wit she so flaunted, or the beauty she possessed. He had never met anyone as charming, as caring, as terrifyingly captivating, as Lorelai Gilmore.

"I…" he fumbled, "it's just that…"

Her bright eyes were probing for an answer, and he had to look away to avoid becoming lost in their seas. He found he could focus better without looking at her, and he chose to focus on a magazine on the table instead.

"I think I love you, Lorelai," he stated simply. Now that he had conquered the mountain, he forced himself to meet her eyes. There was a look of longing in them; longing for reciprocation, understanding, love. He hadn't felt love since Rachel left. That was a long time.

Lorelai's expression changed rather quickly; from a look of imploring wonder, to a look of utter confusion, bewilderment… flattery. She smiled her small smile, tilting her head to one side curiously. Her hair danced around her, flying in front of her line of sight.

Before she could brush it away, a rough hand was there, tucking it safely behind her ear. She looked up to meet his eyes, trying her best not to cry. How could she have been so lucky? She ran away when she was sixteen. She found someone to take her in. She met amazing people. She had a house. She led a wonderful life, better than, in her opinion, her former. She had many a people to thank for her success, but none more than the man sitting before her.

"I—wow…" she stammered, "I don't know what-what to say to that…"

"I'm sorry," he apologized immediately, "I just thought… I just… You don't have to say anything…"

"No," Lorelai disagreed, "I want to say something. I just… give me a minute, okay? This is just… surprising. I was expecting, you know, 'I'm actually really rich and wanted to share my wealth,' or 'I just wanted to make you feel welcome in town' or… something less… _this_."

The duo sat in silence, neither one meeting the other's eyes. Luke stared at the blank TV screen; Lorelai stared at the wall behind Luke leading towards the kitchen. There was silence on both ends. Neither one could speak; Luke, to overcome by embarrassment, and Lorelai, too stricken with surprise. It was minutes before the first word was spoken.

"Luke, you've been a great friend. You've been there when we've needed you most…" Lorelai said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you did this. I can't believe – God, why didn't I see it? You bought this house, you made sure we were faring well… and I didn't see any of it. I didn't—"

"Lorelai, it's not a big dea—"

"It is a big deal, Luke!" she shook her head. "It is! I… I'm sorry. I'm just surprised. Just give me a minute to understand. I mean, I haven't known you all too long, but…"

"Let's just… forget it…" Luke said awkwardly. Lorelai, again, shook her head in disagreement.

"No, I can't just 'forget' this. No. I just have to… think. It's just so sudden. I mean, I guess… I don't know."

She stared at him, analyzing their situation. Maybe if she…

She moved towards him, taking his hand gently in her own.

"What are you—"

In a single swoop, Lorelai caught him mid-sentence, catching his jaw with the palm of her hand. It slid over his stubble and cupped his jaw loosely, drawing him closer as her lips crashed against his. His hand found her waist and inched along her spine, and Luke found himself returning her gestures.

As they drew apart, Lorelai let her eyes find his.

"I think I love you, too."

* * *

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